Angel
by BiJane
Summary: Shortly after the destruction of the hellmouth, Willow Rosenberg comes to the attention of the Elders as a good witch. And, like all good witches, she's assigned a whitelighter. Paige isn't entirely sure what to make of her new charge.
1. Meeting

**A Charmed/Buffy crossover. The only departures from canon will be swift ignorance of the fact Buffy's fiction in the Charmed universe, and Paige and Henry being much less long term than the finale implied. Timeline-wise, I've twisted it so that the Charmed finale happened before the Buffy finale (blame magic).  
This was written as an absurdly late birthday present for WallflowerBitca, who also served as beta.  
Enjoy!**

Paige had been taking a few trips 'upstairs', since trying to pay more heed to her whitelighter half. Getting to know some Elders, learning how things were more-often done, learning about useful ways to work with her charges, and above all trying to get them to change those god-awful robes.

Normally her trips upstairs were well-intentioned. Well-mannered. Sometimes it was a challenge, with the Elders and their maddening arrogance, but she managed.

The one exception came a few months after her relationship with Henry fell through. She'd been talking with her sisters about a date she'd had the other night, ignoring the low hum in her head of her charges.

That had been one moment. The next moment, there had been silence, the thoughts of her charges no longer registering. It had taken a few seconds for her to establish that they were alive: that the lack of any flare of surprise or pain probably just meant they'd been removed from her care. Another few moments to call Leo and find that he was fine, and that only she'd been affected.

A goodbye to her sisters later, and she'd orbed upstairs, to find out what the hell the Elders were playing at, revoking her charges. They seemed perfectly reasonable however, and allowed her to speak, before one lone Elder took her to a quieter room, to talk.

"Are you going to answer?" Paige said, as she was led away.

The Elder regarded her. He looked more or less as she imagined an Elder would look: pale-haired, clearly elderly, but far from infirm.

"We needed your attention," the Elder said.

"You could've just rang me for that," Paige said.

"True," the Elder said. "Our purpose was threefold. First, to call you. Second, we have decided to reduce your number of charges: any whitelighter may serve as guide to a witch, but no one else may function as Charmed One."

"And third?"

"There is a new charge we would like you to oversee," the Elder said. "One, we believe, you are uniquely suited for."

They came to a small room, in amongst the pale cloud and pearl architecture of the domain of the Elders. Within the chamber was a pale blue table, and atop it a hemisphere of purest crystal.

The Elder rested his hand, palm-flat, on the pristine surface. Within it, light flickered: and a woman's face became visible.

Red-haired, her eyes resolute but her smile playful. Her hair was long, reaching past her shoulders, and as Paige watched the red gave way to a holy white.

"She is a witch," the Elder said. "An unusual breed, to be certain. She was not born to her powers, as you were: instead, she gained them later in life, in no small part due to a maw near her residence known as a hellmouth."

"Hellmouth, huh?" Paige said. "Doesn't sound good."

The Elder shook his head. "The hellmouth itself is not intrinsically evil," he said. "The power it bestows, however, can often be… unstable. Regardless, multiple people are touched by a hellmouth every day. This kind of witch is nothing new, though it is a nuisance. We're unable to keep track of all of them, as there is no way to gauge where they will come from."

"Evidently you tracked her down," Paige gestured at the hemisphere.

The woman's expression was altering. The playful smile had become positively radiant, and her skin seemed to glow. Her once-red hair was now entirely white, and moving as though caught in a silent breeze.

" True," the Elder said. "What do you know of Slayers?"

"Just what I've read in the Book of Shadows," Paige said, frowning at the change in topic. "We've never met her. One woman born in each generation, bestowed with strength and resilience to fight demons."

The Elder bowed his head. "She has altered that spell," the Elder said. "Just days ago. Previously, the Slayer was a lone woman picked from an existing pool of potentials, upon the death of the previous. It was a great spell, by all accounts: incredibly complex, and incredibly powerful, to as last as long as it has. Like it was nothing, this witch changed everything."

"How?" Paige said.

For a moment, she was frightened. Frightened that this witch might have eradicated the Slayer line by ending the spell, that she was an evil Paige was being sent to vanquish. Then, the Elder smiled.

"She did what we didn't think possible," the Elder said. "Where once one would have had the power, now all with have it. Every Potential a Slayer, every one with the power."

A moment of silence. Paige glanced at the figure in the crystal, as the image replayed. She had red hair again, and a playful smile. There was a resolution there, also, that Paige hadn't noticed before.

"I still don't get why you wanted me up here," Paige said.

"This was what brought her to our attention as a good witch," the Elder said. "We noticed high levels of magic in the region last year, and some time before that also, but put it down to the hellmouth. Now the Slayer-enchantment has been altered, however, we suspect she had a hand, however slight, in those events," a pause. "From recent days alone, however, we can conclude she is a witch of phenomenal power. As such, she requires a whitelighter."

Of course.

"Me, I take it?" Paige said. No other reason for her to be up here. "Why me? Aren't there more experienced whitelighters, ones who've dealt with things like this before?"

The Elder shook his head. "There has never been a witch quite like this before," he said. "Hellmouth-borne witches are nothing new. One of this strength, however, is."

Paige looked at the ball again. She felt a shiver at the Elder's tone. It wasn't something she'd heard often before, but Paige was beginning to have the distinct impression that the Elders were scared.

"We have chosen you for three reasons," the Elder said. "First, you are a witch: you understand her in a way few of us can. Second, you, like her, came into your power later in life. Third, you are part of the Power of Three: and, if the worst comes to pass and this prodigious witch is not a force for good…"

The Elder fell silent. He didn't need to continue. Pursing her lips, Paige's eyes returned to the orb.

If worst came to worst, she could vanquish the witch. Just looking at her face in the crystal, however, Paige found she didn't want to.

"We know more about her," The Elder spoke, "But it would not do to share it all. It would be best if you made up your own mind. Be wary, and be safe."

A pause. That wasn't hugely encouraging.

"What's her name?" Paige said, silently accepting the task. The Elder nodded: smiled, gratefully.

"Willow," he said, "Willow Rosenberg."

* * *

The Elders had given her a place to orb down to. It was just a pity that place was in the middle of nowhere. An empty plain, and a road: a road that was empty until, moments later, a yellow school bus trundled along it.

It was then Paige realized she was standing in its way. She had enough to roll her eyes, _great job Elders_, before darting to the side, out of its way. As it passed her, it slowed.

The door opened, to reveal a fairly old man driving. A blonde woman stood by the open door and, scanning through the windows, Paige could only see a sign of one more occupant. While she couldn't make out any details of that occupant, only seeing their silhouette through the window, she assumed it was Willow.

There was something odd about the woman's manner though, and her dress; the same as the driver's. A tiredness it took Paige a moment to place: battle-weariness. It was a feeling she knew too well.

Hours or days after a major battle, the mental and physical exhaustion still found ways of catching up with you.

"Are you ok?" the blonde in the doorway said. "Sorry, Giles didn't see you."

"I looked away for one moment," the driver said, quietly, "She wasn't anywhere a moment before, I-"

"His eyesight's not what it used to be," the blonde said, smiling.

"Age jokes now?" he said, "Really Buffy? You've dated older."

Buffy? Strange name.

"Sorry," Paige said, a little taken aback by the two's evident friendship, even if it was punctuated by playful bickering. "I didn't mean to-" she hesitated. "Ok, this may be a stupid question, but is there a Willow Rosenberg in there with you?"

Paige's eyes darted to the silhouette at the back of the bus. It – she? – still wasn't moving, just lying there. It had to be Willow though, surely: the Elders couldn't be that useless.

The blonde at the doorway to the bus - Buffy? – shifted her posture: became more defensive. A physical fighter by the look of it, and trained; perhaps the Slayer? No, a Slayer if what the Elders said was right. Maybe the original, she certainly seemed well-trained.

"Who're you?" Buffy said.

"Uh, Paige Halliwell," Paige said, opting to use her birth surname rather than her preferred in case they'd recognize it. "Witch. Half-whitelighter, which is kinda why I'm here."

Buffy frowned; glanced back at the driver, who was presumably Giles. He frowned.

"I think I've heard of her," he said. "Halliwell, it's a line of witches. San Francisco area, I think. They were important historically, I'd no idea they were still around."

Some scholar he was. Paige suppressed the urge to ask if he's heard of the Power of Three.

"And whitelighter?" Buffy said.

"I know the name," he said, and hesitated. "Haven't encountered them before. They're good, I think, but my books are in England. I couldn't tell you more, offhand."

"I could get your books," Paige said, speaking up. "You know, if you want. Give me the address, I can orb there and back."

Buffy tilted her head, apparently uncertain what 'orb' meant in that context. Paige sighed, and turned to white light on the spot, just for a second or two. Then, refocusing, she reformed a step closer to the bus.

"Told you she wasn't there before," Giles said, quietly. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Come in, then," the blonde said. She seemed to have decided Paige wasn't a threat: or, at least, that if Paige was a threat she would have done something with her powers other than announce herself.

Paige moved closer, and Buffy stepped back. Getting into the bus, Paige couldn't help but notice how damaged it looked.

Battered, and stained with what might have been food, and might have been blood. There was a mess of clothes in one corner, and a few chairs snapped back, broken to serve, presumably, as beds. A cracked window had been boarded shut.

It was an oddly humble site, given what the Elders had told her. Then again, Paige reflected, Buffy and Giles have every sign of having fought somewhat recently, and Willow's grand spell begged the question of just what required countless Slayers to be activated.

A redhead with a familiar face sat toward the back of the bus. She had a silver creation of metal that resembled nothing so much as a scythe on her lap, and had her eyes closed, neck tilted back, breathing slowly. Asleep.

Buffy quickly introduced the three on the bus: all as Paige had guessed. Herself, Buffy, the driver Giles, and Willow Rosenberg.

"She's wiped," Buffy said, as Paige's gaze lingered on the woman she knew to be Willow. "Big spell a couple of days back, still recovering. She was all dazed and grinning, and a little bit high, for a day after, then she zonked."

"Heard about that," Paige said, absently. "Slayer-spell. It's what brought her to their attention. Uh, the Elder whitelighters."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "I was going to ask about that. What are you exactly?"

"Whitelighters?" Paige said. "Uh, it's a long story. Let's settle for guardian angels. Witch-only guardian angels. We guide, help, chat, comfort. Usually heal, but I've never gotten the hang of that."

"Could've done with you last year," Giles said, from the wheel. "And the year before that. And the year before that."

"I bet," Paige said, and winced to look at them. "I said it was a long story. Apparently they didn't know about Willow: normally the Elders watch genetic lines, families, witches who're born to their power, like I was. Like my sisters were. Willow wasn't, so… Only found out about her with the Slayer-spell."

Buffy sat on one of the broken beds, near the front of the bus, and just behind the driver's seat. Paige sat on the other side of the aisle, facing Buffy, and occasionally looking sideways, and crabbing her neck. She sat on the same side as her sleeping charge.

The chair creaked under her; wobbled. She tensed, hesitating, glad to feel that it stayed secure. After a few moments more, Giles began to drive, again.

"What happened here?" Paige said.

There was no way the bus was usually in this condition. Buffy shrugged.

"Ever locked a dozen teenaged girls in a confined space for a few hours?" Buffy said.

"Not… personally," Paige said, "Can imagine it, though."

"Add super-strength."

Paige winced, glancing around the bus. Well, that would explain the damage. Maybe even why the remaining seemed so tired.

"Slayers?" Paige guessed.

"Newborn Slayers," Buffy said. "Still getting used to their powers. It was hectic."

"Where are they now?"

Buffy shrugged. "Faith… borrowed a bike at our last rest stop. Slayer. She's scouting ahead with a new Slayer, seeing if there are any demons to watch out for. Dawn – my sister – she took a few with her in the last city we passed, to chase up a rumour of a woman with a lot of strength. Probably a confused Slayer. There's a lot to sort out."

There would be, Paige reflected. She found herself glancing at the slumbering redhead again, awed by what Willow had done. While she was no stranger to powerful magic, altering something on a global scale was still something seriously impressive.

"Kennedy went over a day ago," Buffy said. "Back when Willow was still awake, and dazed. She could be impatient."

"Who?" Paige said.

"Willow's girlfriend," Buffy said. "Ex now, I guess. Just to let you know, if you're meant to be here to comfort Willow… And before Kennedy there was Tara, and she-" Buffy caught herself, and shook her head. "No, Wills should tell you that story. If she chooses to."

Paige nodded, sympathising if not understanding.

A brief silence. Paige didn't want to press the presumably-Slayer just yet, nor did she want to wake Willow. She had only to wait until the witch awoke.

They drove on, Giles taking only quiet roads, over dusty, empty plains. Maybe it was to make sure they could keep an eye out for any demons who fancied their chances against a worn out Slayer, perhaps it was because they couldn't cope with busy roads just yet.

"Excuse me," Giles said, from the driver's seat. "Halliwell, wasn't it?"

"Paige Matthews, actually," Paige said. "Only their half-sister. And adopted. It's a long story. But yeah, one of the Halliwell sisters. Why?"

"It's just, I've heard something," Giles said. "If the stories I've read are accurate, was there not a book that went with the family? It's meant to be the foremost compendium on an entire demonic suborder."

"Book of Shadows?" Paige said, uncertain. "Not sure what suborder you're talking about, but it has a lot in about demons. And other stuff. Why?"

"I was wondering," Giles hesitated, "Could I possibly have a look at it, sometime? It's just, I've always-"

At that point, Buffy just burst out laughing. It was oddly pleasant to see: her still grime-streaked, sternly set face creasing with genuine amusement. She laughed far longer than whatever it was amused her would have seemed to justify, but no one made a move to interrupt her.

Eventually, she quietened, lifting and shaking her head as she inhaled. She wore a smile more comfortably, now.

"Giles and his books," she said, by way of excuse, to Paige. "He gets like this sometimes."

There was a stirring toward the back of the bus; Paige felt a twinge in the back of her mind, the quiet spot she knew to be the domain of her charges' thoughts. Or charge's, now.

A quick nod to Buffy, and Paige turned, to see the redhead stirring. Paige stood, quietly slipping down the central aisle of the bus, feeling Willow awake.

The redhead's eyes flickered opened. They shone with a brief, soft, pale light; an aftereffect of tremendous magic, before she blinked it away. Then, Willow shifted, pulling herself up straighter. It was only after a moment she turned, blearily making out Paige sitting on the opposite side of the bus and facing her intently.

"Hiya," Willow said, still clearly drowsy. "How are- who are you?"

She didn't seem at all perturbed by the presence of a stranger on the bus. Maybe it could be put down to the spell, maybe it was simple sleepiness.

"Oh," Paige said, "I'm, um, your whitelighter," Willow tilted her head, not understanding. "Uh, your guardian angel, I guess."

"Oh," Willow blinked. Then, a goofy grin. "Nifty."


	2. Learning

**Hello again! Quick couple of notes. I don't have the time to dedicate to this story that I'd have liked, so it isn't hugely long. As I mentioned before, it's just a quick ship-fic for a friend.  
Enjoy!**

Buffy and Giles sat near the front of the bus, occasionally talking. Paige could only hear snippets: apparently they were working out a route to Cleveland, and what they should do on the way there.

Paige and Willow sat in the back, talking. Paige had quickly explained the basics of whitelighters and witches: neglecting, of course, to mention to Willow she'd scared the Elders. Scared them more than she'd ever heard them being, even when the Source of All Evil and the Titans were let loose.

Willow had passed the strange scythe to Buffy, to speak more easily with Paige.

"So…" Willow said, slowly, still only just waking up, "I'm not a witch?"

Paige had just finished explaining why the Elders had taken so long to assign her a whitelighter. Willow's expression had clouded for a moment before she spoke. Her tone had sobered, now: Paige wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing.

"Kind of," Paige said, "You are, just not the normal kind, I guess."

"I'm not normal?" Willow echoed. Then the serious edge to her voice faded, and she smiled. "Heard that before."

"Normal witches are born," Paige said. "Witchcraft is in their blood. You- you weren't like that. But through willpower and location and strength, you made it so. You made yourself a witch. I mean, it happens, but- it's rarer. Much rarer."

Willow frowned as she absorbed the information. She tilted her head; Paige hesitated. She'd expected openness to be the best policy, especially in this situation.

Still, Paige wasn't entirely sure that this was helping. If anything, she just seemed to have confused Willow. Unsurprising, if this was her first introduction to the concept.

"Guess it explains Amy," Willow said, murmuring to herself more than Paige. When Paige frowned, Willow spoke up: "Witch, in Sunnydale. Her mother was too: thought Amy'd just looked at the same books. Guess if it runs in the family… Don't think she had a whitelighter though."

"We can be inconspicuous," Paige said. "Or maybe she was like you, it's possible. Was she good?"

"Huh?"

"Whitelighter," Paige said, "It's in the name, kinda. Only good witches get them. As soon as a witch goes evil, they get revoked."

"Oh," Willow said, and looked down. "No wonder it took so long for me to get one."

Almost immediately, Buffy came back from the front of the bus. Paige couldn't say she was surprised that she'd been listening in; she needed to earn their trust, apparently. And Willow had been through a lot by the sound of it, it was no wonder Buffy was being cautious.

Still, the Slayer didn't join in the conversation, only sitting closer, apparently just in case Willow needed someone she knew. Paige hesitated, uncertain.

There was something she didn't know here, no question. Still, Willow seemed friendly enough now, and if she didn't want to share, then Paige wouldn't force her.

"That was only because they didn't know how to find you," Paige said. "The fact I got sent here at all is proof you're a good witch."

She spoke blindly, but was gratified to see Willow smile, somewhat. Perhaps she needed confirmation of that.

"So every good witch has a whitelighter?" Willow said.

"Pretty much," Paige said, "Well, not ones like you. Self-made witches, I don't know if there's any proper term. You get one when we find you, though."

Willow glanced sideways: out the window. A few seconds passed.

"Is there anyone you want to ask about?" Paige said, softly. "I can find out, if I orb upstairs. If you want me to."

A few more moments of silence. Slowly, Willow turned back, regarding Paige. Then, she spoke with a voice that was barely audible. Little over a whisper.

"Tara Maclay," Willow said. Then, louder: "So I became a witch because I wanted to be?"

"From what I've gathered, yeah," Paige said. "Harder than just that though, it takes a hellmouth, and a strong will. A really strong will. I- was she near a hellmouth?"

Paige didn't use her name. She couldn't say way, beyond the fact there were clearly bad memories here. Buffy had mentioned a Tara, too.

"She was a witch before Sunnydale," Willow said, and for a moment she smiled. Then that expression faded, to be replaced by pain; "I don't know whether there was a hellmouth there too. She didn't like to talk about it. There might have been."

Paige nodded.

If nothing else, this would hopefully be a step towards gaining her charge's trust. Ideally, even friendship. She couldn't serve any purpose without that.

Even without that, though, Willow seemed to want to know. Whether she sought any titbit of information, or possessed a genuine curiosity, Paige couldn't say. Either way, she would be glad to help.

"If you want me back," Paige said, "Call my name, Paige. Just call, and I'll be down here in a moment. Ok?"

"Ok."

They shared a smile, before Paige was gone, turning to orbs of light, and rising up through the roof of the bus, and away.

For a few seconds, Willow stared at the empty air. She straightened in her seat, and rubbed her eyes clear from her sleep. A yawn; she was still worn from the great spell she'd woven. Then she hesitated, suddenly finding herself unsure of what she could do.

"You good, Will?" Buffy said, from a few rows in front.

Willow nodded. "Sleepy," she managed another smile. "Don't think I've done anything that exhausting."

"You affected the entire world," Buffy said, "Take a nap, you've more than earned it."

Willow chuckled, and yawned again. Buffy moved back until she sat in the same row as Willow.

"So, what do you think of her?" Buffy said.

Willow mouthed the word 'Paige', not entirely sure whether or not that constituted summoning her whitelighter. She'd have to ask. Regardless, Buffy nodded, and Willow shrugged.

"She's nice," Willow said.

They again lapsed into quiet. Paige hadn't been around long enough for Willow to gain more of an opinion. Nice was enough, really.

Then she recognized the look in Buffy's eyes. She sighed, from fondness more than frustration. It was more than a friendly query: was Paige safe? Was she a threat?

Buffy had needed to focus on pragmatism over kindness in the past months, with the threat of the First looming. Such habits couldn't be given up so quickly; Willow smiled.

"I think she's genuine," Willow said. "She's trying to help. She-"

Willow hesitated, and stopped again. No need to talk about Tara unnecessarily. It hurt.

Apparently, Buffy understood. The blonde nodded and, recognizing Willow's need for quiet, moved back toward the front of the bus.

Willow waited, trying not to fall asleep again, immediately. This was the longest she'd been awake since leaving the Sunnydale crater.

After a few minutes of staring out the window, there was a quiet chiming. Orbs shone in the centre of the bus, and the familiar, dark-haired Paige came into being. She regained her bearings, looking from side to side, before sitting next to Willow.

"Hi again," Willow said.

"Hi," Paige said. "Think I found answers for you. If you want?"

Willow nodded, silently. Slightly worriedly: what was she to think if Tara did have a whitelighter?

Well, she wouldn't accept Paige, then. As it had done a thousand times, the scene replayed in front of her mind. A gun shot, a shattered window, a shirt stained red.

Paige had said whitelighters could heal. If they could heal, and hadn't saved her, Willow didn't want anything to do with her.

Willow blinked, trying to clear her mind, and school her expression again.

After a moment, hesitating at the sudden harshness that had come across the normally-gentle redhead's face, Paige spoke.

"Well, firstly," she said, "Found out you were right. There's an Amy Madison registered, formerly of Sunnydale, power of transfiguration. When she started using her powers for personal gain, her whitelighter left."

She wasn't sure what made her start with that. Maybe just being able to put the redhead at ease. Still, Willow watched her, as if to silently ask _and?_

"Tara Maclay had the power of amplification," Paige said. "Her mother was a witch too, with the power of aura-reading. From what the record-keeper said, her powers were sealed by her mother, at the insistence of her father, shortly before she died. The same happened to me, when I was growing up, my powers had been sealed. I didn't know I had them, though she did. And when a witch's powers are sealed, she stops being a witch."

"You left her," Willow said, simply.

"Not me personally, but yeah," Paige said. "It was- there are only so many whitelighters. We can't look after every witch and ex-witch, as well as our other charges. I'm guessing she was kind of like you, though: she wanted to be a witch again strongly enough, that the hellmouth answered. We didn't know."

At that, Willow smiled, only somewhat bitterly.

"She was strong," Willow spoke, soft. "Always was."

A pause. The records up where the Elders lived hadn't gone into a great deal of detail; a witch so young, who had every indication of never using her powers again, in the grand scheme of things she seemed ignorable, compared to all the others.

They were wrong. Unsurprisingly, really, but the Elders were nothing if not set in their ways. Still, it meant Paige knew nothing except the fact this Tara had a relatively obscure power, had lived in Sunnydale for some length of time, and then something happened.

And, thinking about it, Paige wasn't sure she wanted to know the whole story.

"Are you ok?" Paige spoke, after a quiet few seconds.

"No," Willow said, before smiling, and shrugging. "But I'm coping. Don't worry about me, I'm used to it."

There didn't seem much of a way to respond to that. Thankfully, after a few more seconds of silence, Willow was the one to continue the conversation.

"What's amplification?" she said.

"About what it sounds like," Paige said. "Affects other peoples' or creatures' powers. Can be offensive, if you want someone to lose control, but it's more often used to support others," she paused, "I don't know if she'd have had it, when she came to Sunnydale. I don't know how this hellmouth stuff works."

Willow shifted on the spot, momentarily lost in a memory. The first time she'd really met Tara, a memory of that, of the Gentlemen; and of taking her hand, and feeling a power she didn't know she'd possessed barricading the door.

"She could do more than that," Paige said, when the silence dragged on. "Which you probably know. All witches have an inherent power, in addition to being able to do spell and potion work. Plus it's probably different when a hellmouth's involved."

Willow nodded, to show she'd heard. Still, she didn't speak, caught both in reminiscing, and an anger that still didn't feel natural to her, but always threatened to overwhelm.

Tara should've had a whitelighter. Someone to be there, to be able to heal her. Maybe these Elders were justified in not guarding witches with their powers sealed, maybe not. Regardless, it burned Willow to know just how close Tara could have come to surviving.

She felt a familiar prickle in the back of her eyes, a too-familiar seductive voice at the back of her mind. Wincing, Willow shut her eyes; looked away from Paige, instinctively not wanting her own whitelighter to see what she could become.

"Buffy," Willow said, and raised her voice. "Buffy," again, more urgently, "Scythe, please."

She didn't speak much: didn't trust herself to. She knew she could say cruel things, when the darkness within her rose.

"Are you ok?" Paige said, uncertain, as Buffy slipped past her, to pass the silver scythe to Willow. "If you need healing, I probably can't do it, but I can call someone who can?"

Another few moments of silence. Buffy watched Willow, and the redhead held the scythe, breathing softly. When Willow opened her eyes, Buffy looked into them, and nodded. Then, as the blonde moved back to her seat, she turned to Paige.

"She's fine," Buffy said, somewhat curtly.

"No," Willow said, exhaling. Her voice was kinder now; lighter. "You should know," she looked at Paige, "If you're going to be my guardian angel, and all. It was- There's part of me I don't like. I got desperate a while ago, took in dark magic. I don't- I control it, most of the time. Rarely use it, but it's there. Scythe's the only thing that helps me control it. I don't know if that makes me a bad witch or what, but it's there."

Paige hesitated. For the life of her, she couldn't picture Willow being evil, try as she might. Then again, she couldn't have imagined Phoebe becoming evil, before the matter of Cole and the Source. Instinct wasn't always accurate.

In this case, however, it felt more so. Whatever Willow was, whatever she could be, malevolent wasn't on the list. At least, pure malevolence wasn't.

"I see," Paige said. She didn't know enough to contradict Willow. "It doesn't matter. The Elders wouldn't have sent me, unless you were good."

A lie, technically. Part of the reason she'd been sent, was to assess how good Willow was. Still, Willow seemed to need the comfort. The confirmation.

"Besides, you saved the world," Paige said. "Or at least had a hand in it, a few days ago. I only heard a few details, but there was something about the original evil. Whatever else you've done, you saved the world from it."

"And tried to destroy the world last year," Willow said.

Now, however, her tone wasn't quite so dark. She might even have been playful, even if Paige had the impression she wasn't joking. Yet more she couldn't picture the redhead doing.

Still, she decided to respond in kind: making light of atrocities. If that was what helped Willow, then so be it.

"My ex-brother-in-law was the Source of All Evil," Paige said, shrugging. "No one's perfect."

Willow blinked: then, surprisingly, chuckled. "That sounds like a story," she said.

"I guess," Paige said. "Sounds like you've got a few too."

"You know mine," Willow said. "Some of them, at least."

Not enough. Paige didn't say that, though.

"You want to hear about me?" Paige said.

"If you want," Willow said. She looked down. "I've been talking about me a lot. It feels weird."

"Ok," Paige said, "I guess. We'll hopefully be spending a bit of time together, so probably best. Whatcha want to know?"

And so it began. Paige outlined much of what she'd lived, while Willow listened. Willow even managed to stay awake throughout it.

Paige started when she'd first met her sisters, and described how she'd come into her power. How she'd been amazed, and scared: how she'd learned to adapt, eventually. It was a fear Willow could sympathize with.

As Paige went on, she gave only the broadest outline of what she'd done. There wasn't much opportunity for detail. She spoke vanquishing the Source, and of the Avatars, and of her two nephews, and her to-be-born niece.

The road grew increasingly busy as Paige spoke, until they were clearly on the outskirts of a city. They were in Cleveland, judging by the signs.

When they entered the busier streets, Paige fell silent, with nothing else to say. Willow didn't ask much more: she'd queried a little, and asked a few questions, but apparently everything she wanted to know had been answered.

It was after a few seconds that Paige sighed. She hadn't wanted to ask, respecting Willow's need for secrets, but it had been playing on her mind. It seemed like something she'd need to know, as Willow's whiteligher.

"Who was she?" Paige said, softly. "Tara."

A pause: Willow looked down. "My everything," she said.

Almost immediately, Paige regretted her question. She opened her mouth to apologize, and Willow shook her head.

"Don't apologize," Willow said. She chuckled at Paige's frown: "What? I know that expression. It's not- you've been open with me. Guess I should be too."

"Not if you don't want to," Paige said.

"I do," Willow said. She paused: exhaled. "Tara, she's- was- is my everything. The only other witch I've really known," a pause, "Well, that wasn't a rat. Long story," her momentarily light tone faded. "She died. Was killed, in front of me. He took her life, and I couldn't help her. I tried, I just…"

"I'm sorry."  
"Not as much as he was," a flicker of darkness. Willow gripped the scythe, tighter. "It's not something I'm proud of."

Paige took her hand. Whitelighters could heal physical wounds: and while that was something she'd only really managed on Henry, back when things had worked between them, Paige couldn't help but wish she could do the same for injuries of the mind.

Maybe she should have been frightened, or scared. It was true enough that the Elders had told her to be wary of Willow: to warn them if she showed signs of being a danger. And apparently she'd tried to end the world.

Somehow, though, Paige didn't worry.


	3. Memories

**This is the part of the story my beta screamed at me and called me mean. Enjoy!**

The bus had been parked and left behind. Faith had gone ahead and booked Giles, Buffy and Willow a place: Paige only came by when called. They weren't the grandest rooms, but they were enough.

A few days passed. Willow called Paige often, though more to talk than seek help. There were a few demons, certainly, but they were nothing Buffy, a handful of local Slayers, and Willow couldn't take care of with ease. They didn't need a whitelighter's aid.

At some point along the way, they'd grown to trust Paige. Her aid in moving in had been a help for that: it was much easier to call her and ask her to wave her hand and say a word, than it was to carry their (admittedly few) belongings inside, bit by bit.

"Paige!" Willow called, when the day was almost done. After a few seconds, her whitelighter orbed in.

"Hiya," Paige said, reorienting herself. She sat on a chair, opposite the also-sitting Willow. "Anything happen today?"

Willow shrugged. "Few vamps, four demons. Nothing big."

"Yeah, same here," Paige said. "Couple of demons in San Francisco. Nothing much," she paused, contemplative. "I was a vampire once."

Willow blinked. Then, she tilted her, head, peering into Paige's mouth; Paige chuckled.

"I'm not _now_," she said.

"I… didn't know it was something you could get better from," Willow said. "Well, not easily at least."

"Different kind of vampire," Paige said. "Think so, at least. Kill the queen, her nest dies, and anyone who didn't drink blood gets transformed back."

"Handy," Willow said. "Sound easier to deal with to. Our vamps don't have queens."

Paige chuckled, and Willow shifted where she sat, before wincing. Immediately, Paige leant forward, frowning.

"You ok?" she said. Willow shrugged.

"Yeah," she said, "Magic-proof demon. No trouble, just got a bit close before we realized. It's nothing serious."

Paige stood, still a little uncertain. Willow's posture had altered, putting as little weight as she could on her right side. Paige reached forward, her hands pausing in midair.

"Can I?" Paige said, hesitantly. Willow leaned back, allowing her to look.

At the very least, Paige reflected, she'd a fair bit of experience with injuries. She should be able to judge its seriousness.

Slowly, she lifted Willow's top, baring the lower half of her abdomen, and revealing a wound that was probably shallow but, due to its position, looked relatively deep. She winced at the sight, though nodded appreciatively at the spell-work already in place, keeping the blood within flowing as it should, through veins that were no longer there.

Though she couldn't quite say why, Paige reached out towards the wound, somewhat amazed Willow could brush it off as 'non-serious'. Her fingertip brushed the edge, and she quickly pulled back.

No point in hurting Willow. Not moving, Paige looked up, toward Willow's face, trying to gauge how she felt.

"Sure you're ok?" Paige said, soft.

A moment of silence. Paige felt a strange rush, an instant of affection for her charge, and her bravery. Then Willow closed her eyes; exhaled, quietly. When she opened your eyes, she glanced at Paige, and then glanced down.

"Thank you," she said. Paige hesitated.

"For- uh, for what?" Paige said.

She followed Willow's gaze down, eyes coming to rest on the redhead's side. Where once there'd been a jagged cut, a wound it was almost painful to just look at, now there was just pale skin. Smooth skin, with no sign of a scar, nor even a speck of red. Paige blinked.

"Thought you said you couldn't do that?" Willow said, uncertain. Slowly, Paige touched the healed wound.

"I can't," she said, and hesitated. "Well, not usually. It's-" she paused, again, before lapsing into a quickly-spoken ramble. "You know how it is. All magic needs a trigger: some kind of feeling, or thought, or gesture. Healing- I've never been able to reliably call up the trigger. Only managed it a couple of times, and that was for someone…" she fell silent; shook her head.

"So...?" Willow said, uncertain. Paige shrugged.

"Guess I'm getting better?" she said, not really believing it.

* * *

Willow didn't always need her, of course. Even if Paige was able to heal, now, Willow had the distinct advantage of living in a city populated by directed Slayers. Those that knew what was going on had, unfortunately, not yet made it to San Francisco's Slayer population.

As such, Paige spent some time elsewhere. After her unexpected triggering of her healing power, Paige had retreated upstairs, to where the Elders and some whitelighters called home. Best place to find out about her powers.

"Excuse me?" a new arrival drew her out of her confused reading.

She hadn't been learning much, anyway. As she already knew, the trigger for whitelighter healing was love, and presumably due to her half-whitelighter status, a kind of love she couldn't easily summon up. The last trigger she'd had was Henry, and he'd been the furthest thing from her mind, then.

Paige looked up, to see someone garbed in the typical robes of a whitelighter, when up here. She rarely bothered with the robes: some deviation from the rules was apparently expected from her family, by now.

The whitelighter pulled their hood down, to reveal blonde locks, and a smiling, if shy, face.

"Um," she spoke, "Are you Paige Matthews?"

"Yeah," Paige said, and frowned. "Do I know you?"

"N-no," the blonde shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just- Um, they asked me to become a whitelighter last year. When I died, like normal. They don't- I knew people. Person. I can't see her, not if she's to move on. That I get, it's just- it's hard, you know?"

Paige hesitated. The blonde winced in self-consciousness.

"I'm not making much sense, am I?" she said, and sighed. "I just want to talk to her. Or at least send a message, and I can't. I- I know their reasons, I just… and I think you know her. That's what they said, anyway."

Paige paused, quickly managing to put things together. It had been something on her mind, recently.

Willow had mentioned someone. A good person: the kind of person who'd be asked to become a whitelighter, and would likely agree. That, and blonde, slightly shy, mild stutter.

"Are you- I might be wrong in which case ignore me, but are you Tara?" Paige said.

The blonde whitelighter nodded: and smiled, relieved. So she didn't need to introduce herself.

"You know Willow," Tara said. "That's what they- that's what everyone said. Can you talk to her?"

Paige nodded, perhaps too quickly. She didn't need to think about her answer. With the time she'd spent with Willow, the conversations she'd had, and what she'd learnt, there was no way she'd ever refuse that request.

"She misses you," Paige said. Tara looked down.

"I know," a pause. "I know, just-"

Paige smiled sympathetically. "I know how the Elders are with rules," she said. They'd done the same with Prue, from what she'd gathered: made it so the now-lost Halliwell sister couldn't see the others.

In a way, maybe it was unsurprising they'd given the same kind of rule to Tara. Even if that meant they would have known of Willow, and Willow's power, for a much greater length of time.

And hadn't given her a whitelighter because they didn't think she deserved one. That recognition came quickly; Willow had voiced a worry that she wouldn't count as a good witch, after what she'd done. Maybe the Elders had agreed.

Unaware of Paige's thoughts, Tara nodded.

"I couldn't see her," Tara said, softly. "I heard things, small things. I don't know how much is true, but… I wish I could speak with her."

"That's what I'm here for," Paige said. She managed to coax a smile from Tara.

"I know," Tara said. She paused. "I- tell her I said hi, I guess."

"Is that all?" Paige said, frowning. Tara shook her head.

"No, I-" a pause, "There was so much I wanted to say, I just- you can't carry it all back down. Just- I don't know what to leave out, and what to keep, I…"

Tara shifted on the spot, her whitelighter robes creasing. Paige couldn't shake the impression that they didn't quite suit her.

"I'll do my best," Paige said.

"Th-thank you," Tara said. "I- Tell her I'm sorry about her shirt. A-and say, for what happened after, I forgive her. If it had been her, I don't know what I'd have done… And, and there's only one other thing I'll ask. Please, promise me she'll try to be happy, that she'll try not to keep punishing herself. That she can move on, without sabotaging it for herself: I won't mind, sh-she's got a lifetime to fill. We can work the details out after, just- I want her to be happy, in any way."

Silence. Paige nodded, slowly, trying to recall all of Tara's words. She wanted to miss out as little as possible; she knew how important this would be for Willow, and she could guess how major it was for the blonde.

"A-and tell her to be strong," Tara said, after a moment. "Like I know she is. Strong like an Amazon."

* * *

Paige descended to Willow, a short time after. There was no sign of any other explanation for how her healing power could have been triggered, so she shrugged it off. Maybe she was just improving.

Certainly, it seemed more likely than the alternative. She felt affection for Willow, that she wouldn't deny; she felt similar for all her charges. Maybe she felt an extra kind of kinship with the witch, a new bond of closeness, but it couldn't be enough to qualify for the kind of love her power required.

Shaking off those thoughts, she landed in Willow's room, the light of her orbs quickly waking up the witch. Paige winced; she kept forgetting to check what time it was before she orbed down from upstairs.

"Did I call you?" Willow said, blinking sleepily, "I know the frogs were bad, but I didn't know I called you."

For a moment, Paige blinked.

"I won't ask," she said, "Sorry, didn't know the time. You didn't call me: I had something to say, but it can wait. I won't-"

Willow shook her head, "No," she said, "I won't be able to sleep now. Say away," a smile.

Paige hesitated, unsure of where to begin. Things were always easier in her head; and besides, the mood didn't feel right now. Willow seemed to expect a joke, from her expression.

"I met someone," Paige said, "Upstairs, I mean. Whitelighter-place."

Willow blinked. "You woke me up to talk about your love life?" she said, uncertain. Paige shook her head, quickly.

"No," she said, "No, no. It was someone- They knew you. And, uh, you know I said good people could become whitelighters when they die? It was one of them."

Somehow she couldn't bring herself to say _it was Tara_. The name always seemed to mean too much, around Willow. Unsurprisingly, really.

Still, the redhead seemed to guess. Or at least, she had her suspicions, judging by how her expression clouded.

"She said she's sorry about your shirt," Paige said.

She didn't know the full story: she hadn't pressed Willow to share every detail. From Tara's tone, however, she'd guessed that was important. From the look in Willow's eyes, she found she was right. Too right, perhaps.

Paige hesitated, not sure she wanted to continue, if that was how Willow reacted. Well, if worst came to worst, she could summon the scythe with her magic.

Before that, however, Paige offered her hand, as a comfort. Willow took it: smiled, somehow.

Then Paige continued. She shared Tara's message, almost word for word. As much as she could remember, at least, all important aspects passed on. In addition, she explained the rules the Elders made: so that Willow could move on, Tara couldn't see her.

It was something that Paige paused after saying. Prue was the only other person like that, that she knew of: she couldn't see her sisters because they were the Charmed Ones, they had much to do, that couldn't be done if they didn't move on.

"You have a destiny," Paige said. "That's what I think, at least. That's when that rule's applied: when someone needs to move on, to achieve something. It's not an excuse, I just- I thought you should know."

It was all she could think of. And, in truth, if Willow had just rewritten the spell that governed the Slayers and their succession, Paige could only guess at what would come to pass in her life.

Slowly, Paige continued, and finished recounting what Tara had asked her to say to Willow. All the while, she held the redhead's hand, and watched her eyes.

She wasn't sure if it was fear or compassion that had her look there. Wariness, in case those eyes should turn black, or trust and pity, knowing that these weren't pleasant memories she was bringing up for Willow.

"She asked you to be strong," Paige said, echoing Tara. "Like she knows you are. Strong like an Amazon."

When she'd finished, there was silence. Willow's grip may have briefly turned harsh, but there was no sign that she was overcome. There was only sadness and, maybe, acceptance.

After a moment, she spoke.

"Thank you," Willow said. Paige smiled, relieved, and didn't let go.


	4. Together

**And here's the final chapter. I hope you've all enjoyed the story, and will enjoy the finish. **

Paige sat upstairs, for once garbed in her whitelighter robe. This was a more formal meeting, she might as well dress like it.

The Elders gathered in a circle, atop the cloudy floor of their domain. Paige stood in the centre, alone; a little unsteady on her feet from nerves, but that was all.

Speaking was the Elder who'd assigned her to Willow. He addressed the other Elders more than her, explaining the matter at hand. Paige had been assigned to a phenomenally powerful witch, by all accounts, and one who'd been created by the hellmouth rather than bloodline.

He also shared knowledge Paige suspected the Elders possessed, though they hadn't confirmed it. That when Willow had lost her girlfriend, Tara, she wielded dark magicks in a grief-fuelled attempt to end the world. Even now, the seed of corruption remained in her.

Apparently though, Willow first came to their attention before, in some affair involving a hell-god. Paige had only heard snippets of the story, but apparently Willow had been vengeful, and after had become possessive. Selfish. Paige winced to hear the details.

She had done good, however: she'd faced off against the First Evil, the first speck of malignance to taint the world, and played a role in the defeat of its latest plan. From that, they'd decided to grant her a whitelighter to fulfil the normal role of such a guardian and, in addition, watch for any sign that Willow was likely to fall back to evil.

"And now," the Elder said, "Paige Matthews, your assessment, please."

Right. Paige cleared her throat, eyes quickly glancing around the circle. A few Elders had their hoods up, a few had their heads and faces bare.

"Willow Rosenberg is a good witch," Paige said. "A good person. In the time I've known her, she's been kind, and caring, and she's used her powers only for good. True, she's made mistakes in the past. Big mistakes: at first she used her powers for personal gain, and when it resulted in tragedy, she was overcome. Since then, however, she has spent every hour, every minute searching for redemption."

She paused: caught her breath. In that break, a hooded Elder spoke.

"Should we grant redemption to all those who seek it?" they said. "Some peoples' crimes leave a permanent stain. Try as they might, evil cannot be washed away."

"Oh, please," a brunette, rather less formal, Elder said. "Don't be so melodramatic. It doesn't matter if someone can be redeemed, only that they try for it. Friend told me that."

"Even so-" the hooded Elder tried to say.

"Oh, put a sock in it," the brunette Elder shook her head, sighing.

At that exchange, the more distinguished, white-haired Elder interrupted.

"Harmon, Cordelia, please," he said, warningly. They fell silent. "Paige?"

Paige paused, trying to gauge whether or not the two would speak again. Then, she continued.

"I don't know about all that redemption stuff," Paige said. "I know that no one's perfect, though. And the more powerful someone is, the bigger their mistakes. That doesn't make them evil, though. You sent me to her because she'd done something good, and I can say that as long as I've known her, she's been good. I can't say anything else."

A pause. Paige looked around the circle, at each of the robed Elders. It was hard to suppress her nerves.

Then she decided she wasn't going to pretend any more respect for the Elders than she genuinely had. Besides, they probably already know how she really felt.

"Actually," Paige said, "One more thing. I promise, no matter what you decide, I'll continue to serve as Willow's whitelighter."

There was a murmur at that. Still, they shared a few looks. Maybe she'd made an impression, though for better or worse, Paige couldn't say.

The white-haired Elder spoke, then. "Thank you for your input, Paige. The council will inform you of our decision, when it is made."

* * *

Willow knew most of what was going on: and as such, Paige decided to treat her. There were advantages to being a whitelighter after all, and being able to orb essentially anywhere was one of them.

Buffy had insisted they could survive without Willow for a few hours, and had even urged the redhead to relax.

As such, now Willow sat beside Paige atop the Golden Gate Bridge.

"So you live here, huh?" Willow said, looking from side to side, at the great view.

Somehow, she felt safe. Being accompanied by a woman able to heal and orb her anywhere, especially one sworn to protect her, had that effect.

"Not right here," Paige said, chuckling, before squinting. She gestured across the river; "Our house is over there."

Willow turned to where Paige gestured, peering out over the city.

"Narrows it down," she said, and chuckled. "I'd show you where I lived, but it's a crater now."

A moment of silence. They looked out, still, over San Francisco. The red bridge stretched out, the sight impressive enough from the ground.

"So," Willow said, "After a couple of minutes, "You can go anywhere?"

"By orb?" Paige said, "Pretty much, yeah. Harder to navigate in the Underworld, but otherwise…"

"Hopefully we won't have to go there," Willow said, and laughed. "Can tell you I don't want to, at any rate. Wouldn't mind trips elsewhere."

"Why, Ms Rosenberg," Paige adopted a faux-scandalized tone, "You wouldn't be suggesting I use my whitelighter power, meant for the protection and guardianship of my charges, to sightsee?"

"Maybe," Willow said.

Another chuckle; Paige took Willow's hand, and squeezed.

"Sounds like a plan," her normal voice, again. "Where'd you want to start?"

It was the strange thing about being given so many choices. Given all the options in the world, the mind always went for what was known. The comfortable, the less alien. Though there were countless sights Willow wanted to see, from Niagara Falls, to the pyramids, only places she'd been came to mind.

Though equally, she hadn't been especially well-travelled. Most of her life had been spent in Sunnydale, and that was no more, after all.

"How about England?" Willow said.

"Narrow it down," Paige said. "Big place. And do you mind if I ask why?"

"Was there earlier this year," Willow said, "Coven there helped me control myself. Couple there were my age, or younger: less serious. They didn't want me to waste the trip, took me sightseeing. Saw a few things I wouldn't mind seeing again."

"You can show me around," Paige said. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Um, London," Willow said. "Don't know where exactly, immediately. Surprise me."

She gave a hopeful smile, at which Paige laughed.

"Sure," she said, "Give me a moment."

Seconds later, and the two witches had become a shimmering orb of light, fading to nothing as they travelled away. The long journey took them a few seconds in transit, and a little while longer as Paige tried to gauge where best to land.

A few people looked up to see a ball of light briefly shine against the perpetually grey clouds of London. A blink later, however, and it had moved on. Those lucky few who managed to follow it however noticed it head in the direction of Big Ben.

Willow and Paige reformed at the top of the clock tower, just above the clock-face, and a little below the grand bell that gave the tower its name. Their legs kicked idly over the edge, their hands were joined, and they looked out over the city.

It was raining. From what Willow remembered of the English weather, that wasn't a surprise. Muttering to herself, she cast a charm taught to her by the Devon coven: apparently it was one of the first things local witches learnt.

A thin film formed in the air around the two of them, a bubble in which the rain turned at an angle, splattering around in an uneven sphere, and leaving theme dry. The only problem was the damp stone on which they sat.

"Nice place," Paige said, amused. Her expression sobered though, enjoying the view.

"Better weather than usual, too," Willow said, tone such that Paige couldn't tell whether or not she was serious. "I've got good memories here, that's all."

"You don't need to make excuses," Paige said. She glanced around. "Any favourite place?"

The tower stood beside a wide river: Willow gestured a little way down that river, toward a great white wheel that was taller even than Big Ben.

"London Eye," she said. "Used to ride it when we took the train down here. Officially for calming purposes: which it was, definitely. I liked that. Most of all though, the view was great," she smiled, "Plus we all got a pod to ourselves. The coven witches, and me."

Paige glanced toward the wheel, and around. She could only imagine how much you could see from the top. Probably not the most spectacular city in the world, she had to admit to preferring her own San Francisco, but she could see why Willow had enjoyed her time in this country.

"Want to get on it?" Paige said. Willow shook her head: she gestured down towards the ground.

"You can see the queue from here," she said. "Takes forever to get near."

"We don't need to queue," Paige said, turning to Willow: a mischievous smile. "Magic, remember? Can orb right into a carriage. Elders give whitelighters memory dust, in case we accidentally reveal the existence of magic. Only meant to be used in serious situations, but I can spare a pinch for those who see us."

She grinned, playfully. Willow turned away from the view, to face Paige. Whatever she was going to say faded along with the grin on her own face, as soon as she looked at her whitelighter.

Paige was going to ask what caused her expression to change, what made her happiness fade. She wasn't certain though; the look in Willow's eyes was no different. She was enjoying something, no question.

It was about that point Paige realized her thoughts had started babbling, after about a second on Willow staring at her. There was something oddly intense about that look.

And then Willow leant forward and kissed her.

For the first few seconds, Paige was still. Utterly still: she didn't know how else to react. Well, she'd known intellectually what Willow's sexuality was, after Tara. She'd obviously known Willow was single: she just hadn't expected Willow to show any interest.

Her next thought was that the kiss wasn't exactly unpleasant. Willow's lips were soft, her scent sweet; earthy. The kiss was gentle too: not pushy. Comforting: and more than comforting. Paige felt a thrill she couldn't describe, a lightness in her stomach.

And that was when she orbed, and Willow fell forward.

Paige came back into being behind Willow, now: and Willow lifted her front up, off the stone. She turned, quickly finding Paige, expression uncertain.

"Sorry," she said, quickly, "I didn't-"

"No," Paige said, shaking her head, "Don't be sorry, I- I do that when I'm surprised. Less often now, but, uh, that was still a surprise."

"Oh," Willow said, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Haven't had that reaction before."

Awkwardness gave way, briefly, to laughter. Then:  
"Um," Willow said, "Was that, um, ok?"

At that, Paige hesitated, genuinely not sure what to say. On the one hand, that had been- well, good. On the other hand, it was probably quite unexpected. And she wasn't sure what to make of the trend for Halliwells to end up in whitelighter/witch romances, though at least this time she was on the opposite side.

Her confusion evidently showed on her face, and Willow's fell.

"Was I bad?" she said, quiet.

Paige shook her head, immediately.

"No, no," she said, "That was good, just- confusing, I guess. No, not confusing, I'm just confused. So sort of confusing, but that's not you, it's-" she blinked, shook her head. Willow winced in sympathy, recognizing the indecision.

Paige was almost relieved when she heard a chiming in the skies: the call of the Elders. They wanted to see her.

"Um," Paige said, soon realizing this wasn't a great time. Still, there wasn't a choice. "I need to go. Elders, they- they just called me. Can I drop you off anywhere?"

Willow shook her head; "I'll wait here," she said, gesturing at the view. "Just- um, hurry back?"

Paige nodded. "I promise," she said, before dissolving to orbs of white.

* * *

Back in the clouds, Paige immediately started towards the place she'd spoken to the Elders, before. She made it a few steps before she realized she wasn't in her robes: then shrugged. It probably didn't matter, whitelighters who spent most of their time on Earth couldn't be expected to change every time they were called up here. Especially when it was an urgent matter, like this one seemed to be.

There weren't as many Elders waiting for her, this time. There was the brunette who'd spoken the last time Paige was here, the white-haired Elder who'd first approached her about Willow, and a couple of others, neither of which Paige could recognize.

"We have reached a decision," the white-haired Elder said.

Paige braced herself.

And the Elder didn't continue immediately. Apparently they had a flair for the dramatic; then again, they were people who wore robes, lived in the clouds, and turned into balls of light. It wasn't unexpected.

It was, however, irritating. Paige quickly scanned the few Elders there, or at least those whose faces she could see. Unfortunately, they'd raised impassiveness to an art form.

"Given what you have said," the Elder spoke, "And her past actions, we accept that Willow Rosenberg is eligible for a whitelighter: and, if you would accept it, we would appoint you on a permanent basis."

"I'd accept it," Paige said, barely waiting for him to finish his sentence. A nod: "And thank you, really."

The Elder bowed his head, once.

"You will be assigned new charges in addition to Willow, when we are sure she will not return to darkness," the Elder said. "I trust that will not be a problem?"

"No," Paige shook her head, "Not at all. You know I'm happy to take on charges."

"That was not the problem I foresaw," the Elder said. "I understand the relationship between you and Willow has… changed, recently?"

Paige flushed, briefly, and hesitated. Of course he'd seen that, the Elders always did seem to see the wrong things. And it wasn't a great thing for them to see either: she knew how they felt about relationships between whitelighters and humans.

Then again, she was only half-whitelighter, and they hadn't complained about her previous relationships. Then again, she'd been working more as a witch than whitelighter during most of those.

She was about to speak up, to deny that there was any problem there, before she caught herself.

There was no purpose in rushing any statement. There was also every possibility it might be dishonest to deny; the kiss had hardly been unpleasant. Surprising, certainly, but it had been kind. And good. Then there was the healing; Paige knew perfectly well what triggered that ability.

Was it a 'maybe' then?

"It hasn't," Paige said, and paused. "Yet."

"I have been authorized to inform you, you may exercise your own judgement on that matter," the Elder said. "Some of us suspected. So long as you do not allow it to distract you from your duty… We have learnt to be more flexible."

Paige nodded, and found herself smiling.

* * *

Paige found Willow still sitting atop Big Ben, still beneath a magical shield, keeping the drizzle off of her.

"Back," she said, orbing beside the redhead. "Guess who's still your whitelighter."

Willow smiled as soon as Paige appeared, and smiled further at the news.

"Woo hoo," she said, playful: "Properly?"

"Properly," Paige nodded her head.

At that, the brief celebration only lasted a few more seconds. Then awkwardness took over, Willow's at the swift avoidance of the last thing they'd discussed, and Paige's at the sight of Willow's falling expression.

"Um," Paige said, uncertain now. "Earlier?"

Willow looked up; tilted her head. Querying. Paige hesitated: she didn't really have much more of an answer than Willow.

From what she'd gathered, neither of them had been looking. Neither of them had exactly expected this much; and Paige definitely wouldn't have been looking here.

"I'm sorry if it was-" Willow began, sensing Paige's confusion.

"It was fine," Paige said, quickly. She wouldn't let Willow feel bad. "Good, even. Really good- uh, just unexpected."

"If you don't want to-" Willow began, "I don't want to make things awkward," a pause, "More awkward." She shook her head, "Just say if you don't-"

"I didn't say that," Paige said. She barely thought about her words.

"You mean…"

"I mean," Paige said, only making up her mind completely as she spoke those words.

A moment of silence. Willow's eyes briefly drifted out, to the side, before refocusing on Paige. She found a smile.

That time it was Paige who leant forward, for a kiss both were expecting. It went far more comfortably than the first, and Paige felt only butterflies, rather than orbing away.

When they broke the kiss, neither wanted to move away. They sat, faces almost touching, lips barely a centimetre away from each other.

"So," Paige said. Her breath tickled Willow's face. "What now?"

"You're the guardian angel, you figure it out," a chuckle, "Take me home."

"Whose home?"

A shrug. "Yours?" she suggested. "I want to meet the sisters you talk about."

A smile, and Paige reached forward with one hand: took Willow's. There was a brief flare of light, and they were gone. The rain began to fall normally.


End file.
